A Tangled Thread

by Anthea Fraser

  They all shook their heads. Richard said curtly, ‘The different sections of his life were never allowed to overlap. And no, his other work wasn’t writing-related. He was in IT for a while, then had a spell organizing trips for travel companies. There were other jobs over the years, but the last was freelance photography, particularly of trouble spots.’

  ‘But you also believed he was dead?’

  Georgia nodded. ‘Yes, for the last year or so. We heard he’d been killed in a suicide bombing in Egypt.’

  ‘No body,’ Richard said succinctly.

  ‘But why—?’

  ‘Didn’t he come home? That’s what we couldn’t understand, until this last week.’ And she related the fatwa story.

  Will let out his breath in a low whistle. ‘Well, he was certainly a colourful character. I suppose that’s why he became Johnnie Stewart.’

  ‘They were his middle names,’ Georgia said.

  ‘Even so, it looks as though they might have caught up with him.’

  ‘My mother thinks not; she believes if they had his killers would have opted for publicity.’

  ‘Considering the life he led,’ Richard remarked tightly, ‘people were probably queuing up to do away with him.’

  It seemed advisable to step back a little, so Will embarked on the questions he’d originally wanted to ask, about Greg’s tastes in books, music, films and so on, and the tension gradually eased. Georgia produced a few photographs, one of them showing Greg and Jill in the garden at Woodlands, his arm round her shoulders. Somehow this domestic scene confirmed that it was to this family he’d belonged, and he and David really had no claim on him. It was a bitter, if not unexpected, pill to swallow.

  ‘We’ve touched on Greg’s many occupations,’ Tim said as the photos were put away. ‘What do you two do?’

  ‘I’m a partner in a firm of solicitors,’ David said, ‘and Will’s in IT.’ He glanced at his brother, seeming to sense his deflation. ‘Like Dad,’ he added. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I, for my sins, run a commercial flower-arranging business,’ Georgia said, ‘dealing with offices, hotels, restaurants and the like. Tim’s a bank manager, Victoria part-owns an art shop and Richard is a deputy headmaster.’

  ‘That sounds impressive.’ Julia turned to Richard. ‘State school or private?’

  ‘Private. We encompass the full span from age three to eighteen, so we’re kept on our toes.’

  ‘He’s always exhausted by the end of term,’ Victoria put in, ‘but we’re nearly there, thank goodness. It’s the final sports day next Wednesday – we’ve had several for different age-groups – and they break up on Friday. Then come the long summer holidays.’

  ‘You must already be close to the seaside, living where you do,’ Julia said with a smile.

  ‘Close enough, but we try to avoid it in the season. What’s it like where you live? I know it’s Yorkshire, but I’m not sure which part.’

  ‘Stonebridge, North Yorks. It’s on the edge of the moors – very pretty, actually.’

  Richard had straightened. ‘Stonebridge? A member of my staff comes from there; I wonder if you knew her – Maria Chiltern?’

  To everyone’s surprise David flushed a deep, painful red. Julia had stiffened, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, we knew her all right,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘She taught at our daughters’ school and my husband met her one parents’ evening when I wasn’t able to go. He knew her much better than I did, didn’t you, David?’

  ‘Darling, I really don’t think—’

  ‘Could we possibly order some more coffee?’ Tim interrupted. ‘I’ve had two cups but I’m still thirsty.’

  Richard stumbled to his feet. ‘I’ll go and find someone.’

  He hurried from the room, grateful for the chance to compose himself. David had known Maria – more than just known her, from Julia’s inference. It seemed he’d not only pre-empted the position of first-born son but also been the first recipient of Maria’s favours. Suppose – his breath clogged in his throat – suppose she’d only come to him because he reminded her of David? That at the height of passion she’d been imagining she was with him?

  ‘Yes, sir. Can I help you?’

  Richard forced himself to refocus. ‘Yes, please. We’d like some more coffee – the table by the window.’

  ‘Of course, sir. I’ll see to it at once.’

  Reluctant to return immediately to the group, Richard was still hesitating when David came out of the lounge and turned in the direction of the men’s room. Instinctively he went after him.

  He was splashing his face with cold water and looked up as Richard came in. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said abruptly, reaching for a paper towel.

  ‘I gather you blotted your copybook with Mrs Chiltern?’

  ‘I was a fool,’ David said bitterly.

  ‘How long did it last?’

  ‘A couple of terms or so. She just … went to my head. We thought we were discreet but inevitably someone saw us together. She left unexpectedly at the end of that term and I thought I’d got away with it; then, as luck would have it, Julia found out just recently.’

  He screwed up the paper towel and tossed it in the bin. ‘I heard later through the grapevine that her husband had got wind of some affair and whisked her away down south.’ He glanced at Richard. ‘Anyone succumbed at your school?’

  A pulse was beating in Richard’s temple and he fervently hoped the other man wouldn’t see it. ‘Not that I’ve heard,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I should keep your eyes and ears open if I were you. You don’t want any rumours starting, particularly at a private school.’

  ‘Definitely not,’ said Richard aridly.

  They walked in silence back to their families, each wrapped in his own thoughts.

  ‘Coffee’s on the way,’ Richard said. Julia was still flushed, he noted, and the embarrassment that had been rampant when he’d made his exit obviously hadn’t dissipated. Tim was in the middle of some story about his daughter, but no one seemed to be listening.

  The coffee that no one wanted arrived and was poured out. Thank God we’re not committed to stay for lunch! David thought. Julia was refusing to meet his eye. It was the sheerest bad luck that Maria’s name should have come up just when things were teetering back to normal. He could only hope that Will’s presence on the flight home would help to defuse the tension.

  The party broke up shortly afterwards. It was almost lunchtime but the fact was studiously ignored. The purpose of the meeting had been achieved; they had exchanged information about themselves and their shared father and, barring the possibility of attending his funeral, they need never meet again.

  Hands were shaken, good wishes expressed and it was the Gregorys who left first. Richard waited until they’d gone through the swing doors before saying fervently, ‘Thank God for that! I need a drink!’

  ‘Let’s move into the bar,’ Tim suggested. ‘We could have some lunch while we’re there.’

  ‘What did you think of them?’ Victoria asked minutes later as they studied the bar menu.

  ‘I rather liked them,’ Georgia replied. ‘It did strike me, though, that Sally was somewhat careless to become “accidentally” pregnant twice. Hadn’t she heard of the pill?’

  ‘You mean you think it was deliberate?’ asked Victoria.

  ‘Probably not the first time, but when Dad came back and seemed so proud of his little son, she might have thought a second baby would anchor him. It was uncanny how alike you and David are, Rich.’

  In more ways than one, Richard thought grimly.

  It was as though Tim had read his mind. ‘Pity you mentioned your schoolmistress,’ he said. ‘That really put the cat among the pigeons! What’s she like?’

  ‘A Pre-Raphaelite painting,’ Richard replied, remembering his first impression of her. ‘Pale face and a cloud of auburn hair.’

  The memory of a barely glimpsed woman in a doorway flashed across Georgia’s mind and was instantly dismisse
d as untenable; Richard would never play away in his own backyard.

  ‘Sounds as though she should come with a health warning!’ she said.

  Foxclere

  Richard and Tim had both left their cars at the station.

  ‘I presume you’ll be reporting to Mother?’ Richard said as they were about to separate.

  Georgia nodded. ‘She’s been looking after the kids anyway.’

  ‘Not,’ he continued, ‘that’s there’s much to report. A waste of time all round, in my opinion. If you remember, I was against our going in the first place.’

  ‘It was for their benefit rather than ours,’ Georgia pointed out. ‘All the same, it was quite an eye-opener to learn how Dad operated in his youth. I have to say I think he treated Sally disgracefully.’

  ‘And your mother too,’ Victoria reminded her. ‘William was conceived after she and Greg were married. Will you tell her that?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Tim took her arm. ‘Come on, love, let’s get home.’

  ‘We owe you a meal,’ Victoria said. ‘I’ll give you a ring once term’s over; perhaps by then someone will have been arrested for Greg’s murder.’

  It was just after four when they turned into Woodlands driveway and the children, who were playing in the garden, came running to greet them, followed by Jill.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll tell you over a cup of tea,’ Georgia replied.

  Tim patted her arm. ‘You two go on in; I’ll stay and do swing duty.’

  Jill led the way into her kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘Well, what are they like? Did you get on with them?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. David, the elder son, was the image of Richard – it was quite spooky.’

  Jill bit her lip. That was not what she wanted to hear.

  ‘He and his wife seem to be going through a bad patch,’ Georgia added. ‘It was rather embarrassing.’

  Jill brushed that aside. ‘And what were they able to tell you?’

  As tactfully as she could, Georgia repeated the Gregory brothers’ story, managing to omit the exact date of William’s birth.

  Jill set two mugs on the table. ‘So he did know this Sally first. I wondered about that.’

  ‘Yes, by some years. He was apparently the love of her life.’

  ‘And he didn’t tell her when we got married?’ Her voice was carefully level.

  ‘Not at first. As soon as she found out, she sent him packing.’

  ‘Quite right too.’ Jill sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘Poor woman,’ she said.

  Stonebridge

  It had been an uncomfortable flight home. Though David addressed Julia several times she continued to ignore him and eventually, tiring of acting as go-between, Will had opted out and put on his headphones. Unfortunately, though, as David had driven them all to the airport he had to suffer an equally tense car journey back to Stonebridge.

  As he thankfully got out of the car at his gate, Will said, ‘The grandparents are coming for a meal on Monday to hear about the meeting. You’re very welcome to join us – seven thirty for eight.’

  David glanced at his wife’s closed face. ‘Thanks, Will. Could we come back to you on that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  It was a relief to open his own front door and hear the homely sound of his daughter’s contented crowing. Smiling to himself, he followed it to the kitchen, where, seated in her playpen, she was engaged in chewing a teddy bear while her mother heated her milk.

  Sylvie turned from the stove at his approach and he bent to kiss her. ‘Welcome home, wanderer!’ she said. ‘So, was it worthwhile? Are you glad you contacted them?’

  ‘Yes, I am. They seemed very pleasant and we learned quite a lot about Dad which, after all, was the object of the exercise.’ He paused, ruffling his daughter’s curls. ‘Richard’s an odd bird – looks the spitting image of Dave. There were some awkward moments, which was only to be expected. The most noticeable, though, was when it emerged that Dave seemed to have been playing away with a member of staff at the twins’ school.’

  Sylvie widened her eyes. ‘Really?’

  ‘You know I’ve been thinking for some time that he and Julia were having problems? This must have been the reason.’

  She frowned. ‘But I don’t understand; how could it come out when you were meeting your relatives?’

  ‘Well, they say it’s a small world. It transpires the woman now teaches at the school where Richard is deputy head. Pure bad luck as far as Dave was concerned and on the way home you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.’

  ‘Then let’s hope they can now get it sorted once and for all,’ Sylvie remarked, and lifted her daughter into her high chair.

  It wasn’t until they were in their bedroom and Julia couldn’t just walk out of the room that David was able to corner her.

  ‘Look,’ he said desperately, ‘let’s not go back to square one over this. I behaved badly and God knows you’ve punished me for it, but it’s all in the past and we were starting to put it behind us. It’s a damn shame Richard had to bring up Maria’s name but you needn’t have reacted as you did. It put the kibosh on the whole meeting.’

  ‘Oh, so it’s my fault now, is it?’

  He sighed, regretting his last comment. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. But you’re behaving as though I’m still seeing her. Just because he mentioned her doesn’t bring it back into the present.’

  She didn’t reply but he saw tears on her cheek and felt more hopeful. ‘Come on, darling,’ he coaxed, ‘let’s put it behind us. And thanks again for coming with me; it meant a lot to have you there.’

  ‘Even though I put the kibosh on the meeting?’ she asked tremulously.

  ‘You can put the kibosh anywhere you like!’ he said, and was rewarded by a reluctant smile. He moved forward and put his arms round her. She didn’t resist and he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.

  ‘I love you, Julia Gregory,’ he said.

  FIFTEEN

  Blaircomrie

  At nine thirty on Monday morning, DI Mackay’s phone rang.

  ‘The manager of the Scottish National Bank is on the line, sir; he wants to speak to “someone in authority” but won’t say what it’s in connection with.’

  ‘Well, I dare say I fit the description,’ Mackay said. ‘Put him on, Jen.’

  ‘To whom am I speaking?’ The voice was crisp and business-like.

  ‘DI Mackay, Blaircomrie CID. And you, sir?’

  ‘Robert Stevenson, manager of the Blaircomrie branch of the SNB. Something most unusual has come up, Mr Mackay, and we’re uncertain how to deal with it. Some weeks ago one of our clients rented a safe deposit box with instructions that if he did not reclaim the contents within a certain time frame, we were to open the box and hand its contents to the police.’

  Mackay raised an eyebrow. ‘Which, as I presume you’ve not heard from him, you’re about to do?’

  ‘It’s not quite that simple. The bank has a legal duty of confidentiality and would need clear and irrefutable proof that these were indeed the instructions of the client before we could release any documents to a third party, including yourselves. We have a letter from him on file in which a witness to his signature confirms his identity, but unfortunately since this wasn’t notarized it’s not a legal document. Furthermore, we’ve unfortunately been unable to contact our client.’

  Mackay sighed. ‘Can you disclose his name?’

  ‘Again, this is slightly unusual. The account is in the name of GJS Lawrence for J Farthing.’

  Thank you, God! ‘Then I think we may be in a position to help you; the Mr Lawrence in question was presumed dead in July last year. However, it is our belief that he was living in this town under the name of Johnnie Stewart for at least two months prior to his murder some six weeks ago.’

  That shocked Stevenson out of his formality. ‘Good God, the man who’s been in all the papers?’

  ‘The sam
e. In which case, though he wasn’t dead in July last year, he very definitely is now, and therefore unable to confirm anything, so I presume there’s nothing to prevent your bringing the contents of the box straight round? They could be crucial evidence in a murder enquiry.’

  ‘I appreciate your impatience, Mr Mackay, but the box can only be opened by our own guard key in conjunction with the key assigned to the client. Was this by any chance found in Mr, er, Farthing’s possession?’

  ‘I can check, but surely that needn’t—’

  ‘Furthermore,’ Stevenson continued smoothly, ‘in the event of the owner of the box being deceased, it would have to be opened in the presence of the executor of the estate in accordance with probate and bank regulations. The contents would then form part of the estate.’

  Mackay slammed his hand on his desk. ‘Is that really necessary? The family live in Sussex and—’

  ‘You have a contact number for them?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Mackay admitted reluctantly.

  ‘Then might I suggest you telephone them, explain the position and request that either the executor of the estate or a representative of the legal firm handling it should visit us at the earliest opportunity. And once the procedure has been carried out here at the bank, I shall personally deliver the contents of the box into your hands. Perhaps you’d be good enough to let me know in due course when we might expect this representative.’

  He ended the call and Mackay swore fluently before calling Grant’s extension. ‘A potential development, Sandy, but first can you go through Johnnie’s effects in the crime property store and see if there’s a bank key among them? Also, I urgently need Richard Lawrence’s contact number.’

  ‘OK, boss, I’ll get right on to it. What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ll fill you in when you’ve found them.’

  Foxclere

  Richard had spent a miserable Sunday as all the nuances and ramifications of what he’d learned the previous day circled in his head, shifting and taking on new interpretations each time he thought of them, so that first one and then another assumed significance. But however much they alternated, one irrefutable fact always took precedence: his father had known David before he himself had been born – had, in William’s words, been ‘delighted by’ his first born, though unacknowledged, son. So what hope had Richard ever had of achieving that premier place in their father’s affections?